Twenty years later
by I-like-cake
Summary: Nny thought he was sane again, he thought his bloody past were just figments of his insane mind, but when his good life is destroyed, and the insanity comes back..how can he find and 'save' his daugther? What new dangers await? pl R/R!!!!
1. Nny

"You can get help!! Please don't do anything stupid!! There are have to be people out there, some-where, who can help you! Different from the ones who have hurt you! Yes!!" -Nailbunny, Jthm issue one.  
  
-Nny- It was strange city; the building loomed like dark towers. He was unused to this place, but he knew she was here somewhere in this large dim and filthy maze, and to make it worse it was late November and very cold. Not many people noticed him dismissing the man as an old bum. He looked the part as well: disheveled grey hair, poking out from beneath a frayed hat, paper thin body, and ragged clothing. If you looked long enough you could see his face: gaunt, wrinkled, dirty and unshaven, with one eye blazing with some kind of determination and the other... wasn't there it was just an empty gaping socket. The ones that did notice shuddered in revulsion and horror, before wordlessly turning away and walking on. He scowled and turned back, walking back into the dark alleyway, in which he was living." I'm so sick of that look, it's like I ruin their day because I exist," he muttered. "I could just rip open their skulls and take out their brains ... that'd teach those assholes a thing or two."  
  
"Then why don't you, Johnny?" An all too familiar voice said to him. He looked up, and saw a dirty and slightly cracked mirror leaning against the dumpster. The reflection in the mirror was his own; however it was a younger self clad all in black, with that jet black hair and those silver buckle boots.  
  
"Will you leave me the fuck, alone I don't need to be caught, and I'm tired... you damned hallucination." Johnny sighed.  
  
"What the fuck is wrong with you Nny, what the fuck is wrong with me? Afraid to be caught are we? To tired to give some assholes a lesson in etiquette? Where did we go so wrong and become some tired old, pathetic man, eh?" The mirror Nny spat back.  
  
"You don't understand. First I'm not old, I'm middle aged. Secondly I'm not as fast or as good, I was when I was your age... I've gotten caught before whatever was protecting me or us back then, has stopped. And thirdly, it's hard as you get older to be an insomniac...everything feels so cold and aching now... every part of me screams for rest." Johnny said.  
  
"EXCUSES, EXCUSES!" Mirror Nny screeched and wrung his gloved hands. "My god, we've become so spineless, if I knew this was to be my future I would have blown my head off again. You've gone soft Nny, oh so soft... like a fresh marshmallow peep. just like all old people, they start off with ideals but everything gets eroded away, and people become so complacent. Comprise... comprise... comprise.... The brains dim, the blade dulls and before you know it... your voting republican and gulping down pork rinds. It isn't us, Johnny or should I say... Jonathon."  
  
"Fuck off, ghost of Nightmare past." Johnny mumbled and turned his back and started to walk away.  
  
"You don't want to hear the truth; you've lost conviction, lost your spark. You envy me." Mirror Nny snarled. "You forget who you were... only wish, you could have taste of what you once were... you're a failure... Jonathon C."  
  
Johnny spun on his heels his one eye blazing with anger. "LIES, LIES! I remember I when was young, I was miserable! I had nothing, nothing but insanity and blood! I hated myself! I hated everyone and killed without discretion, without mercy! I WAS A FUCKING MOSNTER!" He yelled at the mirror. "I didn't think I deserved happiness. Didn't think I could get happiness. I couldn't handle any emotion beyond blinding rage and despair. But you see, Nny I've learned a lot since I was you. I've had happiness; pure wonderful undiluted joy was MINE! ALL MINE! I HAD A REAL LIFE!" He seethed with rage, teeth barred, hat flung aside.  
  
The young man in the reflection looked at him with a thoughtful gaze and spoke calmly. "Ah yes... your so called 'happiness'. Look at it closer. It wasn't happiness, it was submitting to emotions. You became a slave to your feelings and instincts the instinct to find a mate, to breed nothing more then that. Your happiness was hollow. It was dependant on so few people and things. It was hollow. There were so few moments of 'pure undiluted joy' anyhow. It was more of the monotony of middle class life, punctuated with scrambles to make ends meet and domestic disputes. And besides where is your vaunted happiness now? It's gone all gone, you lost it. And you turned back to watered down version... a hazy reflection of your old self to regain it." Mirror Nny sneered.  
  
"SHUT UP! I HATE YOU!" Johnny yelled. He drove his fists through the cracked surface of the mirror. It shattered into hundreds of small shards. He looked at his hands they were cut and covered with blood. And it was dripping down and down to the cold ground. He saw the fragments of the mirror; each one contained a small version of Nny, all of them grinning evilly at him.  
  
"But we are you." Said the shards.  
  
Johnny turned away once more; he sat down and curled himself into a ball. Everything ached so much now all the time. it was too cold here and his hands wouldn't stop bleeding. What had he become? Just an old weak shell of a man. How had this happened.?  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Doctor Stevenson had to be one of few worthy people in this he had met so far. His madness had ruined his chances with any sort of social relationship with the other three. But Doctor Stevenson had helped him get rid of that. Doctor Stevenson even looked like a nice person, like Santa Claus only younger and black without the beard.  
  
"When I came here, I was so messed up. I was a prisoner of my own delusions. I was hearing voices. I thought I was mass murderer. I thought, I died and came back from the grave. I was such a fucking mess, they had to keep me locked up in padded cell, and drugged up. How can I ever thank you Doctor?" Johnny said looking around the modest office.  
  
"You don't have to," Doctor Stevenson smiled. "You're the one that made the progress. I knew you were an intelligent, artistic, articulate young man underneath it all. We just had to get you back to that place, where you could be that person again."  
  
"So, I'm totally sane again?" He asked.  
  
"I don't believe anyone is totally sane, everyone has their problems, I just work on getting my patients to a level that is acceptable to society," Doctor Stevenson said. "In the one year I had you and you're already in out patient treatment, that's remarkable."  
  
"Everything seemed so dark and so twisted a year ago. I was a prisoner of my own mind. I had no way of getting out. And no one in the world seemed to care. I was so lost, so far away from reality. And now, I've come back, somehow and it's waking up from a nightmare." Johnny said, giving a small smile.  
  
"Hmmm speaking of nightmares, I've looked at the artwork you brought me. It's some of the darkest and bleakest things I've seen-" Doctor Stevenson started.  
  
"Look, I draw and paint what I feel, what I know, and how I see the world! You said your self I've made progress! You can't make judgments on my sanity because of some scribbling on paper-" Johnny growled standing up.  
  
"-Calm yourself, now. I think you have real talent here you should get a portfolio of your work together and submit it to publishing company. As for the subject matter of your drawings, this medium seems to be a safe outlet to express your feelings. And I encourage you to continue it." Doctor Stevenson answered a faint smile on his face.  
  
"Really? You think so, thanks. Sorry about the outburst-" Johnny stated apologetically.  
  
"It's fine. Well, I'd say that this wraps up our session for today. I'll see you the same time next week." Doctor Stevenson said.  
  
"Yeah, good bye then." Johnny said and turned to leave.  
  
"Before you go take this, it's the sketchbook you had me look at last time." Doctor Stevenson added.  
  
Johnny turned around and the Doctor handed him, a tattered sketchbook. "Thanks."  
  
He was walking back, down the narrow echoing linoleum corridor and back to the little clean apartment they had gotten for him. When he got there he'd re-examine the sketches and... There was someone coming the other way, not looking at where they going. They rushed into him, knocking the sketchbook onto the floor and scattering the pages. He gritted his teeth, another asshole. Another person who didn't give a shit how they acted and how hurt anyone else. He could feel the anger rising with him. He didn't want it taking control. He thought of what Doctor Stevenson had taught him. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, slowing and quietly counting to twenty.  
  
He didn't hear their foot steps going further down the halls. He opened his eyes and saw sitting the person who had just bumped into him was picking up the various loose pages. And person was the right word for them, he couldn't tell the gender. They had a shaved head with a light growth of blonde fuzz on the scalp, large thick circle frame glasses and they wore a drab baggy sweat suit which revealed nothing of their body. The person turned and smiled faintly at him, handing him a stack of papers. "What are you doing?" Johnny asked in s defensive tone.  
  
"I wasn't looking were I was going and I made ya drop it. The least I can do is pick it up for you," The person said, their voice sounded female with and they had a slight southern accent. "The things you drew here are interestin' I like your style." She added examining the pages, before handing them to him.  
  
"Thank you." He said quietly, taking the papers. It had been a long time since he received a compliant on his work and yet today he had gotten two. This was very odd day indeed. He couldn't remember the last time so many people, had been so kind to him.  
  
"I know I look odd, but you would mind not staring and help me, this is your stuff after all." She said.  
  
"I wasn't staring, at you (though you do look like an insect) really. I just thinking about how extremely rare random acts of kindness are." Johnny said, crouching down to help pick up the flood of papers that had flown from his sketchbook. He didn't remember how he filled up do many pages.  
  
"Yeah, they are aren't they? There are so many people out there who're just wastes o' skin." She sighed.  
  
"Yeah." He said.  
  
"However, there are a few people, out there who can put your faith back in mankind." She continued smiling. "You have to risk it to find them. All life is a risk, just one big ride of the wall of death, (Which is song reference no one gets)."  
  
"And you just happen to be one of those people." He said in sarcastic tone.  
  
"Me?" She giggled. "Naw. I'm just too messed up. By the way my name is Katrina, what is yours?" She said offering her hand for a friendly handshake.  
  
"I'm Johnny," He said cringing away from her outstretched hand. He noticed a faint vertical scar running from the bottom of palm and disappearing into under the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "You tried to kill yourself."  
  
"Yeah," Katrina sighed and looked away, her smile gone. "It's just one the fucked up things I used to do. I happen to be bi-polar, an amateur folk singer and I'm late for my appointment with Doctor Stevenson. All your papers are picked up. I think I'll get goin'. Nice meeting you Johnny." She got up and started down the corridor.  
  
"Wait!" Johnny called after her.  
  
"What?" She turned around.  
  
"I should walk you down there. He hates it when his patients are late and I guess it's my fault, I could explain everything." He said. "Okay, thanks." She said and smiled. She had a nice smile. ~~~~~ The wound was bound now. The cold gnawed at him and his clothing was all to thin and ragged, to protect against much. "You gave in, the flesh was weak and your mind was weaker," The shards hissed behind him. "She was your friend at first, just a friend a good friend... why the fuck did YOU need a friend?"  
  
"Because all the voices in my head were gone." He answered sarcastically.  
  
"Oh, touché," The shards said in blasé tone. "And what pray tell did that get anyway? After all those years, she's gone. And you're alone on the street and you're missing an eye. "  
  
"Shut up." He growled. He closed his eye and tired to breathe, to think. Then he saw her, long blonde hair spread out like a halo, in a pool of blood. a gaping hole in her face. the lights of the police cars and the children. a little boy spattered with blood and gore and a girl.... girl with thick brown hair and eyes like his. crying. He opened his eye again. It was cold, miserable and now it was raining. Why the fuck did have to be in New York City in November? He reached in the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a creased and faded photograph. It was picture of the girl, she had to be about three in the picture and she was smiling into the camera. "Oh, yes Genevive. my little Veevee... I have to find you. your suffering..." 


	2. Genevive

-Genevive- ".. He wants to stop your suffering, stop it for good." Voices said.  
  
"Who said that?" Genevive looked from her diary with a start. No one was there. She was alone, in the nauseously frilly and pastel room her foster parents had given her. There wasn't a thing in that place that wasn't pink or ruffled. They even had a shelf of porcelain figurines on the far wall their collection consisted of: small children with big eyes, unicorns, cuddly animals. that sort of thing. "We did." The voices came from the figurines.  
  
"What the fuck?!" She shouted.  
  
"Now, be quiet your foster mother doesn't approve of language like that and certainly not at this time of night, Vee." They said. She glared at the figurines, staring down one of a boy with his dog. "This has to be dream, another one of those fucked up dreams I've been having."  
  
"You've heard us before, whispering and murmuring you dismissed us as rustling wind or a symptom of fatigue." They said.  
  
"That's it this has to be a dream," Genevive and fished around in her the drawer of her night stand. "I'll prove it," She grinned and removed a small gleaming Swiss army pocket knife. "Wake up NOW!" She yelled and plunged the pocket knife into the middle of palm. There was a sudden surge of pain and when she looked down she saw blood flowing from the fresh wound. Her eyes widened.  
  
"Shit." She gasped.  
  
"Awe, how sweet Daddy's lil' girl. Looking just like Daddy." The voices cooed sarcastically.  
  
"Do not." She growled.  
  
"Look in the mirror then." They answered in a smug tone of voice. Genevive slowly looked up. And there she stood in the full length closet mirror. And she saw a scrawny girl of sixteen, dressed in black from head to toe, with very thick shoulder length brown hair and large child- like eyes. With a knife tightly grasped in her right hand and a bleeding wound on the left. "Good, god. I should get a band aid on this." She murmured and headed for the door.  
  
"I wouldn't go out there if I were you." The figurines said.  
  
"Why not?" She asked.  
  
"He might be out there, waiting." The figurines hissed.  
  
"No he wouldn't. He got locked up. "Genevive stated.  
  
"He escaped forty eight hours ago, you know that if watched the nightly news," The figurines taunted. "So you'd better watch out."  
  
"Why should I? I'm his kid, he loves me," She sighed. "I know he loves me."  
  
"You answered your own question there," The figurines said. "He loves you so much. You're his favorite, his little girl. "  
  
"What the fuck are you going on about?" Genevive asked walked over to the figurines and scowled at their empty smiling faces.  
  
"He doesn't want the cruel world to hurt you. The same way it hurt him. And he can't destroy the world. He'll destroy you." Came the reply from their motionless faces.  
  
Her eyes widen in shock. "What do you mean?"  
  
"We mean he's going to kill you. We don't know exactly how. But you can assume it will be in a way that's quick and relatively painless. He loves you, much to watch you suffer." They said.  
  
"Why should I believe you- you- smarmy faced little-things." She growled and snatched up a figurine of a little boy in a sailor suit.  
  
"We are a part of you and yet we are not you." They said.  
  
"So I'm made of cutesy porcelain figurines, yeah right." Vee retorted.  
  
"No but these do seem to keep your attention." The voices said.  
  
"If your not figurines what the fuck are you?" Vee asked the one in her hand.  
  
"We have been around far longer then your time on this earth and yet we are you. We are everywhere; we have talked to so many through the years, including your father at one point in time. We know him and we know you." They murmured.  
  
"What do you mean? I'm going crazy.." She asked, staring at the little figurine in her hand.  
  
"Yes, but never mind that. Your Father is coming to kill you. You should prepare to kill him instead. " The figurines answered calmly.  
  
"What the fuck? He is not coming to kill me. And I'm not going to kill him. He might be insane but he wouldn't do something like that." Vee answered sharply.  
  
"He's already tried to kill you and your brother. He had a better grip on reality then, and couldn't bring himself to do it. Of course, now he's been locked for years in solitary confinement all alone stewing in his insanity for years. And now that's he's gotten out, nothing is going to stop him. He's going to send his little Veevee to an eternal bed-time." They said.  
  
"No." She gasped.  
  
"Yes, it's something you've known in your heart of hearts." They said.  
  
"Yes... but.." She looked down. "Couldn't I."  
  
"You can't reason with him you know. Parents always think they know what's best. It doesn't matter whether it's the taking of disgusting medicine or taking of their offspring's life." They said.  
  
"But I couldn't." Vee sighed.  
  
". you couldn't kill him? It's either him or you. You'll have to kill him. There is no other way. We suggest you start your practice on the neighbor's annoying dog." They said.  
  
"I don't care if he's coming to murder me. I'm not becoming a serial killer just because you say so." She scowled.  
  
"C'mon you hate that dog. It never shuts up." They taunted.  
  
"No, I'm not killing Fifi." She growled.  
  
"Then how about your foster sister? That little brat never gives you any peace and she sneaks into your room to read your diary and mess with your violin. You could just walk into her room and hold a pillow over her face until she stops moving. No one would suspect a thing." They added excitedly.  
  
"I'm not killing Amber." Vee pouted.  
  
"How about those guys at High-" The figurines started.  
  
"No." She answered flatly.  
  
"The creepy janitor?" They said.  
  
"No." she sighed.  
  
"The clerk who short-changes you?" They asked.  
  
"No." She groaned.  
  
"A cheerleader? Everyone hates cheerleaders." They nagged.  
  
"No." She moaned and rolled her eyes.  
  
"That Bible thumper who said you're going to burn in hell?" The figurines asked hopefully.  
  
"No." She groaned.  
  
"How about that pimply fat boy who sits behind you in orchestra, breathes heavy and is always leering suggestively at you? You could slaughter him like the piggy he is." They giggled.  
  
"NO," She growled. Then she took the figurine she was holding and threw it to the floor smashing it into fragments. "Ha! What do you have to say to that?! I showed you."  
  
"You think we can be beaten that easily?" They said. "He's coming to get you.... he's coming to get you..." the figurines chanted. And Genevive slumped to the floor, and stared into the distance beyond the walls of the house.  
  
~~~~~ That had just been a month ago. Now, she was in New York City. Vee had grabbed some money, a bag of clothes, her violin and a pocket knife and taken a train ride across the country. If she couldn't fight her father and the voices, she could certainly out run them. Maybe the logic was faulty but that didn't matter. Now she stood on a subway platform, with her violin nest between her chin and shoulder, eyes closed one hand on the bow, and one the neck of the instrument. Her violin case open at her feet ready for donations of whatever petty change people could spare. People were rarely generous; some gave her subway tokens or pennies. They'd shout 'get a real job.' and 'can't you play something good?' Usually their idea of something good was Turkey in the straw. Genevive was sick of people asking her to play Turkey in the straw, they never paid her to play it, and they just assumed she had nothing better to do then take requests. Why couldn't the morons appreciate Beethoven, Bach and the other classical music she played? It was hard. She spent her days trying to earn enough to buy something resembling food and her nights getting what rest she could on the trains that ran at night. She hadn't eaten in two days, she was cold, tired and she needed a bath. She had no illusions about being discovered, in the big apple. Genevive just wanted to have control over her own destiny. Today she had made a grand total of thirty cents and she'd been playing since eight in the morning. Her hands were shaking badly it took every inch of her strength to control the bow. She shuddered and went on playing. "Thanks for the music; it might be the only good thing in my day." A soft male voice said.  
  
"Your wel-" Vee replied. Her eyes snapped open. He was gone, vanished into the crowd of people. However he had left a twenty dollar tip. 


	3. SqueeTodd

-Squee-

      "Thanks for the music, it might be the only bright spot in my day." Todd said as he dropped a twenty dollar bill into the violin case of the young musician. She started to reply, but he bolted. Afraid of what would befall her if he stayed. Bad things always happened around Todd. It was a curse that he never outgrew.

      Most people would think having three best selling novels by the age of twenty-six was a good thing. He loved writing he always had, and now not only did people appreciate his work, he was getting paid gobs of money to keep it up.  In fact he was on his way to a book signing to promote the latest one and yet it wasn't right. Writing the last one, felt like slow and constant torture. Then there were the strange whispers, rustling noises that had begun in his apartment. And there were things there that darted around in the corner of his vision.  It was good getting out. Even though he was going to a dreaded signing and seeing his dreaded agent.  The thoughts of both things made him gulp. And clutch tighter to the battered book bag he was carrying. He stepped on the train and tried to block out the dark thoughts of impending disaster that flew through his head.  He managed to find a seat and caught a faint glimpse of his image in the window.  He was gawky, skinny and he still had the same doe eyes, and the same hair cut he had since a child, in fact his face pretty much looked the same, if it wasn't for the scraggly goatee on his chin no one would believe he was a day over Thirteen, in fact most of time they didn't and he had to show some I.D. to prove his age. 

The intercom crackled. "This is the driver speaking, our train is currently being attacked by hideous rat-like mutants, who dwell in the subway tunnels, "Todd looked out his window to see an animalistic face hiss at him, and a claw like fingers scraping at the glass. And he clutched his book bag tighter. "Do not open the window if you see one trying to get in.  However they loathe the dreaded light and to shake them off   the route will be shortened and everyone will have to get off at the next platform," There was a lot of groaning and complaining form the passengers at this remark. "Hey, you can stay if you want to get you throat slashed out by their horrible claws."

      There was terrible hissing snarl as the train pulled up to the platform.  Todd looked were they stopped. It was three blocks, from the bookstore where his signing was.  Well, at least it was better then getting killed by rat-people. And he wouldn't have to face the crowds of fans or his agent until…

"There you are!" Came the familiar, syrupy sweet of his literary agent, Tara. "I was just going to take the subway up to Soho, to get you, I thought you forgot."

      He winced at her voice. "Hello Tara." He mumbled.

"Why don't you look at me, Todd? You can't be all shy and reclusive around everyone." She cooed. 

      He looked up. Tara Smith was a bit older then him. And she didn't look all that scary; just another New York City business woman with tailored suits, manicured nails designer haircuts, expensive pumps and brief case.

  
"Yeah, we should get going. We'll end up late though." He said.

"Walk? Why don't you just take a cab, like everyone else?" Tara said as they walked up the stairs.

"I… don't … like … cabs. Bad things have happened before, in cabs." He mumbled.

"Oh, Come on now, not all cab drivers are werewolves, zombies, aliens and escaped mental patients who really don't know how to drive. And that was only your first coupla cab rides, pookie." Tara added with a smile and hailed a cab.

"I- really don't think…"  He started as the cab pulled up.

"Our chariot awaits," Tara said with a flourish. "Get in, it's not gonna bite you."

      This did not sooth him , and  as he  slid into the cab he checked for teeth.  Tara gave the Destination to the cabbie and he grunted. Then the cab took off at break neck speed, and Todd gripped the door handle tightly.

"You should eat, something I brought sausages," Tara said. "their my own recipe."

Todd squeed and moved to the other side of the cab. "You mean their made of people?"

"Oh, come on, pookie. I don't see your objections to cannibalism. I see it as cheap and tasty solution to over population." She said taking a bite out of one the sausages." Why waste money on chemical fed, horomone enhanced over priced meat? When a good hearty meal is close as the hobo on the corner? Now, I know there is silly ethical issuses but, this is the modern era and people are much more torelant of alterinve diets and lifestyles. So you should be to, pookie-kins."    
 She took another huge bite from one the two sausages.

"No… it's just… that… I don't think it's nice to eat people and  your  going to  eat me are you?" Todd said and as he clutched bookbag tightly.

"No, Pookie we've been over this, and over this," Tara said chuckling. "You're my client, I like you and I make money from you. I wouldn't eat you… unless your books stop selling so well."

Todd gulped, whimpered and looked at her fearfully. "Uhhh... okay then."

"Oh, pookie!  You know I'm joking. There's not enough meat on you for a full meal any how!" Tara said and finished off her sausage. "Mmm are you sure, you don't want any? This Avon lady is Delish with sour kraut!"

"But don't you wear Avon make-up? I thought you liked the Avon lady." Todd  mumbled.

"Oh, I did but then I found they test on animals. Can you beleivie those monsters, torturing those poor defenseless creatures!" Tara said scowling.

      The brakes of the cab screeched and Todd closed his eyes tightly as it swerved out control wildly.  Then there was a yelp, a thump, and  the wail of police sirens. When he opened his eyes again, he found they were parked on the sidewalk.

"Mmm, not exactly in front of the book store but on the same block." Tara said casually handing the cabbie the fare.  

      They stepped out of the cab, a wave of fear and nausea overcame him again, as he noticed the bleeding body crushed under it. 

"Uhhhh… I don't know about this…" He muttered to the book bag.

"Your talking to that bookbag again."  Tara said.

"Oh. I'm sorry… I'm  not crazy." Todd said in a startled tone.

"No, I don't mind it really, all you creative people have  quirks and eccentricitys, it makes you all the more marketable pookins" Tara chuckled. "However, I would like to know what exactly is in that bookbag, that makes for such interesting conversation."

      There was a mob of unruly people outside the book store. Half of the people were dressed in black, the other half looked as if they wouldn't know fashion sense if it walked up and bit them on the groin. And they all looked very angry and anti-social.

 Frantic looking bookstore employees, were trying to keep them under control, but it seemed as if their efforts were in vain and the fans would start rioting, at any minute.

Todd felt a huge wave of new panic racing up his spine. He turned to flee, only to be stopped by an iron, clenching hand on his shoulder pulling him back.

"Now, now pookie we can't just run off in terror and disappoint the nice people who came out here to see you," Tara chuckled in a soothing yet condescending tone, as she blocked his escape and turned him around. "The manager is here and he'd like to talk to us." 

Todd gulped, he saw standing before a unshaven middle-age man, who was pale and gasping from fear.

"Thank god! Your finally here! They were going  to …BURN STUFF and bludgeon my staff with HARD COVERS, some of them have POINTY OBEJECTS… I think." The manager yelled in short frenzied bursts, before collapsing to ground weeping.

Tara patted the manger on head and said: "Sorry, he's late, you know traffic this time of day…" She shrugged casully and gave a small laugh.  

"This is scary, I'd like to cancel… they have murder in their eyes…." Todd whined, feebly.

"Nonesene!" Tara clucked, then looking at the fallen  manager said soothingly. "Be a dear, and provide a distraction, so my client can get into the store without being torn to pieces, by these lower life-forms known as... fans.  Or I'm afraid we are going to have to cancel, this little engagement, this kind of stress isn't good for his nerves."

"Okay... okay… a distraction…" The manager rubbed his chin and furrowed his brows in deep thought. "Mmmm … I got it!"

With that the manager got up he walked towards the mob and pointed at a random pedstreian. "Hey, I just heard that guy say, Todd Casil's writing is nothing more then a bunch of overrated crap! And  you guys are all morons with no-life!"

A fierce battle cry arose from the mob as the lunged towards the helpless pedstriean.

 "Quick, run! Before they notice you!" Tara shouted giving Todd an encouraging nudge.

      He barely made into the bookstore, and sat down at the signing table and the mob converged on the table. They had formed into a line, which looked less dangerous and more respectable.

      The first fan in line was a girl of about fifteen or so she had  straight brown hair tied back in a pig-tail. She was smiling softly and her eyes were gleaming with adoration.

"I really, loved your last two books Mr. Casil, your amazngingly talented." She said in a trembling voice as she handed over her copy of his new novel to be signned.

  
" Thank you," Todd smiled it was nice to get a compliment, and she seemed like a nice normal girl, he was in process of signing her book and glanced up. "Who should I sign it too?"

"Ummmm.....uhhhhh..." She trembled with anixety. "Uhhh.... Uhhh...." She was shaking more now. " Uhhhh ummmm.... uhhhhh..." Her voice was rising to high-pitch and she was shaking quite violently. "I FORGOT MY NAME!" She screamed, then blood squirted out of her  ears foam poured her mouth, and collpased to the floor.

"Nevermind." Todd squeaked and slidded book towards her.

      Some of the nice people who worked at the bookstore dragged the girl's body away. The next few fans wore blood spattered, tornn clothing and had  empty, reverent stares on their faces. They looked like zombies, but Todd found out they were quite alive when he poked them with his pen.

Then there was the guy with the brown beard who whispered to him: "This is an honor . My master required me to slaugther many puppys in order to attend."

After hearing that Todd gluped and gave the man's book back VERY quickly.

Then there were the usual frenzied   teenage gothy-looking girls who screamed, cried and made attempts to grab him and said things like:

"I LOVE YOU!" 

"Where do you live?!"

"Wanna go out with me?!"

"Will you marry me!?"

"You know where I have your name tattoed? Wanna see?" That one winked.

"YOUR MY REASON FOR EXISTING!"

"Can I lick you, please?!"

"Sign my Severed Pig's head!"

      And it went on nfor two hours.  He wanted to bolt and find some small, safe dark corner to crawl into. But he  was pretty sure Tara had implanted him with some kind of remoted controled thingy that could kill him the instant he tried to leave early. And maybe it wasn't so bad no one exploded this time, no unholy demons from hell springing from inter dimisonal portal, the building didn't collpase and no rabid wesils attacking people.

It was getting dark when they where leaving the bookstore. The manager hurried up  to them  and offered to take them to a Thai resturant, that was nearby.      
"Well, I like to make my own food..." Tara said. "Todd?"

"Well, I don't-"Todd started, then his eyes widen and he tilted his head listening to his bookbag he mummbled something then  looked up. "...Sure thanks."

  
The manager gave him a funny look.  "Are you okay? Mr. Casil?"

"He's fine,"  Tara said sharply as the walked towards the resturant. "He's under a lot of stress,  this is worse neighborhood, then we were told it's natural.  I happened to see a  very underfed and dangerous one-eyed man lurking around. He snarled at me, I think. "

"Sorry, he's a local vargent we've tried getting rid of him," The manager said in a apologetic tone. " But nothing seemed to work, he-"

      The city air was peirced by a series of loud screams, that came from behind them. There was a book store employee limping up to them. They were covered in blood and their right leg was a bloody stump and their head was so horribly mulitated it hardly looked human the nose, eye lids, ears and lips been cut off, they had been partically scalped and then for fun someone just cut the face up a bit. 

 "HOlY, JUMPED UP JESUS! What happened!" The manager excalimed.

"..... horrible...." The employee  croaked out from  her lipless mouth. "...Killing.... ... We didn't think... it would matter.. he could hurt us.... Oh god.... there alll dead.... all dead....OH GOD... I'm HIDEIOUS!"

There were more screams from the bookstore and various half-dead, and mulaited people fleeing and dragging themsleves.

"Tell your employee to stop bleeding on my new shoes, " Tara snarled. "They cost more then Gross National Product of some countrys."

" I've got to go," The manager said a flash of bravery crossing his face. "My employees need me! You geting you pay docked for bleeding on Ms. Smith's shoes" He paused reading the name tag of the muliated employee. "...Belinda, if you don't die before we get back."

The Manager and the Belinda  went back towards the book store, shrieks echoing in the wind. 

"Well, have a nice time Good-bye!" Tara cooed. "Isn't that something Todd a masscare...." She began then looked around and realized he wasn't standing next to her. "Todd? Where are..." Then she spotted him running down the block ahead of her at top speed. "Oh, Wait up! I'll meet you at the resturant!"


	4. Tess

-Tess-  
_  
"Earlier today there was terrible massacre at a Borderline book store in Manhattan customers and employees a like perished in this tragedy the killer is unidentified is still at large..."_  
The Anchor on the television said while gruesome footage flashed across the screen.  
A grey cat curled on top of the television sleeping. On the counter where the television was place another cat a tiger stripe sat was on the left and a tabby was sprawled out the right side.  
These cats where everywhere in the kitchen, taking up nearly every flat surface. Expect for where their owner sat, on a kitchen chair watching the footage with a look of horror on her face and a tortoise shell patterned feline in her lap and two more perched on her shoulders.  
She still wore her hair in very short cut, but now it was turning grey and she still needed glasses all though the prescription was much stronger then what she needed as a young woman, and she was no longer quite so thin, and her attire wasn't entirely black (It showed cat hair to well). She was still Tess.  
It had been a result of the string unsuccessful relationships and friendships, especially the last one when she caught her fiancée in bed with her 'best friend' at time that was nearly twenty years ago. She had given up the whole concept of a social life and turned to animal companionship. At first she had one cat, but it seemed lonely so she got another and another after that.... now there were too many to count really.   
Her hands dug into the cat's fur, and it gave a surprised cry of pain and dug its claws into her. She batted it off her lap. The events on the screen were all too familiar. These murders, these mass slaughters were just like the ones twenty years ago when on the west-coast. That was when she was younger and confused. It brought back, that dream, something that had to be dream... that she and someone else... was being held prisoner by the raving psychopath who committed those crimes, she could remember running through the bowels of his house trying to escape... something... something unatural... some Lovecraftian horror... and then... and then... the universe was dissolving around her.  
For some reason this dream was more vivid and real seeming then most of her actual memories, it had not dimished after years and therapy . She could still the lunatic's face raving inchs from her own. She could still smell blood, and hear the screams.   
  
"It was just a dream, just a stupid dream. My subconcious was just vomiting up that whole thing. It was just a combination of stress and what I had for dinner that night," She told herself softly. "Hey, Moofy c'mere. Come to Momma."  
  
Tess said and reached a trembling hand to a near by tabby. She was still shaking violently when she gathered it in her arms and stroked it's fur repeatedly. And then Tess rose to her feet, still cradling the cat in her arms and slowly made her way to the televison, watching her every step nerves set of edge.  
The front door slammed and she nearly jumped out of her skin. In the few seconds it took to catch her breath, and slow her heart beat down. The more rational part of the brain, had taken over. She realized who had slammed the door, it was just Morgan, the boy she had taken in as a foster child. Wait a mintue...wasn't it?  
  
"Morgan is that you?" She called out tentativily.  
  
"Yes, " It was him and a wave of relief washed over her. "I am sorry I did not come back sooner." He said in his ever calm polite voice.  
  
"God, don't slam the door like that! It's bad for the house." She said returning to an irritated, but normal tone.  
  
"I did not mean to, I was not thinking. I am very sorry, it will not happen again." Morgan whimpered.  
  
"It's not that big a deal," Tess sighed. Morgan had an annoying habit of being overly contrite, as if every little mistake he made was a mortal sin. "I made you some dinner about a hour ago, you can come in and warm it up if you like."  
  
"Thank you, Ms.Tess." He said and entered the room.  
Morgan was fifteen and he was a very pretty, boy. He had large blue eyes that carried some deep sadness in them. His hair was blonde, and straight he wore it combed down, neatly parted at a length that fell just below the ear, it was like a bowl cut but better. He was slender, small, fragile seeming and lately had taken to wearing dark colors.  
Tess liked him; she had been taking in foster children for the money mostly for years. Children weren't as bad adults genereally and if they didn't seem to have any severe problems and weren't allegeric to cats then it was fine. At first she didn't want to take in any adolescences, especially boys. Most of them were to broken and to dangerous. Morgan was the expection to the rule, she had gotten him when he was thirteen. She didn't want him at first but he looked so sad, and lost. He was quiet, he didn't cause any trouble, polite to a fault, and helpful. The only real trouble was in the first year when he had woken up screaming but that was while ago.  
He ate macaroni and cheese from a plate which he had mircowaved himself without speaking. They usually didn't talk during dinner, but usually the television was on or something, this silence was maddening.  
"So how was school?" Tess asked slowly.  
  
Morgan paused and looked at her, a few strands of hair falling in front of his eyes.  
  
"It was okay." He said casually enough.  
  
"Okay, that's fine," Tess said rocking slightly. "What did you do after school?"  
  
"Things," Morgan said and took another bite. "I saw some friends, and I hung out with them. I lost track of time, and did not call you. Now, I think I will do the dishes, and go to my room and do my homework, I have a lot of it."  
  
He got up from the table, dish in hand and promptly began doing the dishes. "Thanks, for the food, it was delicious." He said and hummed to himself.   
When he was finished, he headed up stairs to do his homework, he promised not to play his radio to loud. But she could hear it booming down, from his room.   
It was later that evening, she was watching television again and when she heard a familiar scratching at the back door.   
"It's just a cat... nothing to be worried about." She told herself, but she was worried, the news reports, the odd feeling of déjà vu as she slowly made her way to the door. It wasn't a cat... it was a person their legs were in shackles, their arms were in a straight jacket, and the person's mouth was gagged. They were covered with dried blood, and it looked like someone had cut their face until it looked like ground meat.  
  
"What the fuck is going on here?" Tess said in a terrified whisper.  
  
This was getting to much like that vivid dream she had. Whoever this was, they had managed to drag themselves here. She should help them a little, call the police and such. She bent down to undo the gag and they whimpered a shadow had fallen over them. Tess turned around… Oh fuck… no… he was back… he couldn't be… There he was with the knives in his hand… the spiked… black hair….. There was pain and as the knives cut in… all that blood more cuts… it was getting dark… He didn't stop this time… She saw his face before everything went black… Morgan…oh god… Morgan… where was Morgan?  
  



End file.
